The True Tournament
by Whataman20934
Summary: Thanks to the pesky letters of his colleagues, Albus Dumbledore has decided that he must finally put to rest the ultimate question: which is better, The Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter?
1. Dear Albus

The True Tournament

By Leafy Rose

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. 

****

Thanks to Anarril and Star_Stallion for their reviews of the last chapter of "What Good This Deafness"! 

Author's Note: I decided to write this fic after seeing other authors' funny LOTR versus HP fics. I thought it would be fun to try to write one, myself. I don't own any of the LOTR/HP fics that gave me the idea to write this, and I didn't copy them in any other way. 

Author's Additional Note: Sorry for not being here in so long! I've suddenly become very busy in RL, but the biggest problem lately has been a huge writer's road block with the TSO Series. 

Sooooooooo, so as not to lose any more momentum with that series, I'm making a departure for the moment to write this light humor story. I hope you all enjoy it. Please review, as I'd love to know what you think. I've not given up on What Good This Deafness or the Trans-Siberian Orchestra series, I'm just leaving it alone for a little while. I'll continue it when this story is done. 

----------------------------

"Albus, have you seen the old third-year transfiguration textbooks? I need to cross-reference a few--," Professor Mcgonagall paused as she stepped into the headmaster's office, looking around. The room appeared to be empty. "Albus?"

The response came in the form of a scuffling noise under the desk and a loud thud that sent most of the noramlly-stationary objects on the surface off balance, onto their sides. Dumbledore rose from beneath the rim of the desk, massaging his left temple lightly. He blinked up at Mcgonagall distractedly. 

"Forgive me. I was looking for something, myself," he said quietly, rising completely, to his feet. "What is it you're looking for? The third-year transfiguration textbooks?"

"The old ones, yes," replied Mcgonagall questioningly. "I need to cross-reference a few things for the next class' quiz."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid I haven't seen them," said Dumbledore. "You might try the library."

"I will," Mcgonagall said, turning to leave. She paused for an instant then turned back around, looking confusedly for Dumbledore, who was back under his desk, shuffling around. "And, er, what are you looking for?" she asked, trying to be tactful. 

Dumbledore popped up again, a look of anguish on his face. 

"Sorry to bother you," she added hurriedly. "But perhaps I know where it is."

"No bother, Minerva," Dumbledore sighed, standing up again. "And I doubt anyone knows where what I'm looking for is."

"What are you looking for?" Mcgonagall persisted.

"A very old spell book," said Dumbledore shortly. He turned around and headed over to a closet in the back of the room. "Come look at this."

Mcgonagall furrowed her brow in confusion, but followed him, looking into the dark closet cavity as Dumbledore opened it. Dumbledore reached inside, pulling out a large cloth bag, packed to the gills with what sounded like paper. He unclasped the bag's opening and dumped the contents out onto the floor. Letters in opened envelopes spilled out around the headmaster's feet. He bent down and picked one up, pulling the letter out and reading it aloud. 

"Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I have a question which has been plaguing me for a very long time; which is better, the Lord of the Rings trilogy or the famous exploits of our own Harry Potter? I can't think of anyone more capable of answering this question than you. Please help."

Dumbledore folded the letter up again, glancing furtively at Mcgonagall, who still looked confused. With an understanding smile, he scooped up a handful more letters, opening them in turn and reading them aloud. 

"Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Which is better, the Lord of the Rings trilogy or the story of Harry Potter?"

"Dear Professor,

Which is better, the adventures of Harry Potter or the Lord of the Rings?"

"Dear Dumbledore,

Who, in your opinion, is a more capable wizard, you or Gandalf the Grey?"

"Dear Professor,

Who is greater, Harry Potter or Frodo Baggins?"

"Who is better?"

"Which is better?"

"_What is better_?"

Dumbledore cringed slightly now, dropping the letters back to the floor. He paused, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to calm down. He turned back to Mcgonagall. 

"Many of our colleagues have sent me letters, asking my opinion on this matter."

"What matter?" Mcgonagall raised her eyebrows, this being the first time she'd heard of this. "Whether or not a work of fiction is--_superior_ to the _true_ hardships Harry Potter has had to endure?" 

Dumbledore smiled slightly, looking back into the closet. 

"Why do you say that, Mcgonagall? You know what the truth of the matter is…" his voice trailed off for an instant, then came back as a minor triumphant exclamation. He bent down to the floor inside the closet hurriedly, straightening up and turning around with a small book with a brown, tattered cover. "Or have I never told you about this?" 

Mcgonagall's gaze shifted to the book. 

"Ah," she said, a bit unsteadily. "Yes, you have. I'd forgotten about it…I also suppose I didn't really believe it existed."

"It does," Dumbledore said kindly, inserting his fingers between the pages.

"Wait!" Mcgonagall exclaimed. "What are--surely, you're not going to--?"

"Nothing bad will come of it, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "And I think it's the best way to finally put this matter to rest."

"Does it really warrant such a drastic action, though? I believe they meant only for a discussion…" Mcgonagall frowned.

"This action _is_ not very drastic," Dumbledore smiled. "I think of it more as fascinating."

Mcgonagall's stern look didn't shift at first. She eyed Dumbledore for a moment, then looked down at the book, poised to be opened. She sighed, her frown turning to a reluctant half-smile. 

"Well," she said. "Where are you going to do it?"

"Right here," Dumbledore said, his smile broadening with her words. "The weekend has just begun, and I don't wish for all the students to learn about this."

"No?" Mcgonagall responded skeptically.

"No," Dumbledore said pleasantly. "Just a few."

**********

"We shall head north now," Gandalf spoke in a voice loud enough for all of the fellowship to hear but soft enough not to raise any alarm from whatever might lurk nearby. "The edge of the forest is close in that direction."

They took off, the nine of them moving moderately, pacing themselves, as this was but the beginning of the night, and they had hours of traveling ahead, they knew. 

Gandalf headed up the line, leading them straight north, as he had said. The deep blue of the night sky bled through the branches above them, casting a dim, eerie aura over the atmosphere. The branches were thick and many, so even with this, their vision was mostly stunted. 

Legolas came up next to Gandalf, looking easily through the darkness at the many tree trunks crowded before them. He could see between them, there was a clearing up ahead. He smiled a bit, then frowned as he saw something moving in it, heard a slight hissing. He raced ahead, pushing between the trunks, until he was in the center of the clearing. 

Aragorn spied the Elf hurrying away and ran up to meet him.

"What is it?" he said, looking at Legolas, who was staring up at the canopy.

"Nothing," he said softly. "I thought I heard something. It must have been the wind."

"The wind?" Aragorn replied, raising his eyebrows as he followed his gaze. "The branches aren't moving."

"I know," Legolas whispered.

Suddenly, the faint hissing that had permeated the atmosphere escalated for a sharp instant and Legolas' pale form vanished from the corner of Aragorn's eye. The ranger turned his head violently and found himself peering into the empty space of the clearing.

"_Legolas_!" he cried.

"What's happened?" Frodo yelped, charging into the clearing, Gandalf at his heels. 

Aragorn turned fast to meet them, a stunned look in his eyes.

"He's--," he gasped, and disappeared with a hiss, leaving nothing but the slight impression his feet had made on the leaves. 

Frodo skidded to a halt, staring in bewilderment. 

"Saruman," Gandalf breathed, grasping his staff tightly and stepping away from Frodo, closer to the center of the clearing. 

"What's going on?" Sam raced into the clearing with the other hobbits, Gimli, and Boromir, just in time to see Frodo vanish several paces away.

"Frodo!" Sam yelled, running forward.

"Stay back!" Gandalf cried, throwing his hand out and raising his staff, preparing to perform a counter spell, the first one that had come to him. He prayed it would do the trick. As he lowered his staff a bit, beginning to rotate it, he heard another hissing noise and another as two more were taken, then he felt as if a blast of hot air had hit him, and he was no longer standing on the dirt in the leaves. 

**********

Mcgonagall drew out her wand, waving it slightly, levitating Dumbledore's desk and ushering it to the far corner of the office. She remembered that there would be nine of them.

Dumbledore looked up from the little book. He cleared his throat.

"Don't trouble yourself, Minerva," he said softly. "I'll make sure none of them are summoned onto an inconvenient spot. There's plenty of room here for all of them."

"Of course," Mcgonagall said somewhat nervously, lowering the desk to the floor and backing into a corner, herself. This would, of course, be the first time she ever saw a spell like this take place.

Dumbledore glanced down at the page once more, then closed the book and set it down on the chair beside him, raising his wand then lowering it slightly, rotating it in a half-circle.

"_Kuru_," he murmured, gazing through the upper window at the long rays of the sun shining into the room. "_Eruseen, nosse, leneeme tulta enta_!"

There was a whooshing noise like wind, but Mcgonagall felt nothing. She blinked in surprise behind her glasses, starting up against the wall as a tall, lithe figure with long hair appeared suddenly in the middle of the room. As he looked at her, she saw that he looked like a young man, though the impression he immediately exuded was that of an old and deliberate being. He stared in questioning surprise and alarm. 

Instantly, there was another gust, and another tall being, this one with a beard and a hardened face, appeared next to him. The long-haired man clamped his hand onto the other one's shoulder, and he turned to him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat again. The two looked at him in unison.

The one with the beard stepped forward.

"What is the meaning of this?" he snapped, glaring in suspicious disbelief at Mcgonagall then at Dumbledore, who returned his look patiently. 

As the man ended his sentence, there were several more whirring noises, coming quickly, overlapping in succession. Before Mcgonagall knew it, there were, indeed, nine beings, several of them tall, several of them quite tall, and several of them as short as first-year students. They all looked very confused, some a little frightened, and none of them of them looked like they were pleased with their sudden change of atmosphere. 

Dumbledore swept his hands forward and several chairs from around the room mimicked the movement, inching forward to be closer to the beings, who shrank back.

"Don't be alarmed," Dumbledore spoke kindly. "It is an invitation to sit down, only. I think you all deserve an explanation."

~~~End of Part 1~~~


	2. A Mere Formality

The True Tournament

By Leafy Rose

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. 

****

For all writer's disclaimers and quill scribblings, see the opening bit of the opening chapter. 

Thanks for the great reviews, everyone! ::big smile::

Dagger of the Mind: Thanks for the review, and the compliment as well. :o) I'm going to try to make this story lighter fare (like Monstrous), so hopefully, it will continue to be funny. Thanks again!

Andie: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like this so far. Thanks for the compliments. I hope you like this new part. :o)

Newmoon: Thanks! I hope you like it! :o)

Elfchick123: Thanks for the review! ::smile::

Nuola: Thanks for the review! Hehe, sorry it took me so long to update. I'm going to start being quicker about it. 

Window Girl: Thanks for the review. Wait til you see what happens after the fellowship reacts ::wink::. 

Jack4: Hehe, thanks. I hope you like this story!

Mariana Nimeneth: ::gratefully takes ice cream:: Thanks a lot! This'll tide us over! Thanks for the review! In order not to make any readers think I'm biased ::blinks innocently::, I won't reveal which text I prefer. :o) I'm glad to have your opinion, though. Thanks again!

Star-Stallion: Happy belated 14th birthday! Thanks for the review! I hope you like this story. :o) 

Onward! 

----------------------------

Chapter 2

"A Mere Formality"

"Do you have any idea how absurd this sounds?" Gimli exclaimed, looking with wide eyes at Dumbledore, who had been doing most of the talking thus far. "Are you _aware_ of the task that we are already attempting? Only to destroy the most nefarious, complete evil ever to exist in Middle-Earth!"

"We do know what you're doing," Dumbledore replied evenly. "And we respect it very much. Your task won't be hindered at all. The spell that summoned you here will, when you go back, put you back in the moment directly before you were brought here." 

"We are going back, then?" Pippin's arrested gaze flicked from a snoozing Fawkes in his cage in the corner to Dumbledore before him. "Soon?"

"In your time, yes," Dumbledore nodded, smiling at the young hobbit.

"And in _your_ time?" Aragorn came forward with a questioning look. 

"About a week," Dumbledore replied.

"A week?" Gimli sounded ready to start barking out protest again, but for a combined quelling look from Gandalf and Aragorn. The dwarf pursed his lips. "And what will we be doing in the meantime?"

Dumbledore smiled again, though this beam held a bit more embarrassment, as if he was going to ask one of them to lend him some money. 

"You will be helping us," Dumbledore paused, trying to find words that wouldn't be discouraging, "…solve…a debate. One that's been batted back and forth for centuries."

Aragorn frowned in utter confusion at this, turning around to see what Gandalf's reaction was. The wizard was leaning on his staff, gazing emotionlessly at the magical being in front of him. He didn't seem thrilled or chilled by the prospect. 

"How?" Aragorn turned back to Dumbledore. 

"For the answer to that, I believe a contract is in order," the old wizard nodded, encouraged by the fact that none of them, not even the dwarf, had observably found this offer rejectable.

Dumbledore pulled his wand out again, holding it level with his elbow, drawing it in a crescent shape through the air. A piece of parchment materialized in the air with his stroke, hovering for an instant, then drifting to the seat of the stool in front of him. 

"_Escribe_!" Dumbledore cried, and his wand slid out of his hand, moving to float in the air over the parchment, bobbing up and down expectantly. Dumbledore looked up with a smile again, noticing the expressions on the faces of the guests. The hobbits looked stunned but fascinated, one of the men impressed but distrustful, the dwarf, annoyed, and the Elf and the man who had come first looked mildly nonplussed by the wand. The wizard with the sturdy staff and the long grey beard to rival Dumbledore's had not changed his expression noticeably, though his eyes seemed to say "showoff". 

"Right!" Dumbledore cleared his throat, turning to Mcgonagall and stepping back from the stool with the paper and the wand. "I don't believe I should keep the guests to myself any longer. Minerva, would you do the honors?" he gestured vaguely to the workspace. 

The nine looked in unison at the witch, still standing in the corner, looking slightly pale from the shock of it actually working. She looked back at them with wide eyes for an instant, almost like a little girl standing at the edge of a lake that she would like to swim in, but was too afraid of drowning to swim. She didn't say a word, but Dumbledore left anyway.

With the click of the doorknob, Mcgonagall shook her head sharply, coming back to herself. With the air of addressing a class of first-years at their first Transfiguration lesson, she came forward, halting with the stool between her and the baffled crowd of Middle-Earth dwellers. 

"Alright," she cleared her throat, looking at the thin writing that was already on the paper. "Will--will the Ringbearer please step forward?" 

Aragorn, still at the front, turned to Frodo, behind him but looking between the taller ones at the scene before him. 

"What do you want with him?" Sam spoke up next to Frodo, peering over Gimli's head to better meet Mcgonagall's eye.

Frodo turned his head to look at Sam, who quickly met his gaze. The Ringbearer smiled at him but shook his head vaguely. He looked up at Aragorn in indication, and the ranger moved to the side. Frodo moved forward, positioning himself in front of the stool. He looked up at Mcgonagall, swallowing nervously. He found her black pointed hat somewhat intimidating, as he had never seen one on a woman. It made her look quite tall. 

Mcgonagall smiled accommodatingly. 

"And what is your full name?" she said. 

"Uhm…" Frodo began but stopped, for the wand in the air began to jerk about as he spoke. He looked from it to parchment, which also seemed to be changing as well. On a line near the top of the page, thin ink writing appeared in concurrence with the movements of the wand. So far, the line read "Um".

"No, no!" Mcgonagall spoke sharply, and for a scary instant Frodo thought she was scolding him, but she was looking only at the parchment. 

The wand continued moving, and the writing disappeared backwards through its trail, until the line was blank again. She looked back at Frodo, maintaining her smile. 

"Just your full name and title, please," she said softly. "The wand can't tell the difference."

Frodo shut his mouth, nodding as if he understood. He opened his mouth again, looking from the wand to the parchment.

"F-Frodo Baggins…son of Drogo Baggins," he spoke loudly, wobbly on the first sound and continuing shakily. His words became mirrored on the line, "Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo Baggins."

"Thank you," Mcgonagall continued civilly, looking over Frodo's shoulder at the others. "The Ringbearer's companion?" 

Frodo stepped back and Sam stepped forward, gazing at the wiggling wand as if it were a sword suspended by a hair from the ceiling. 

"Please--," Mcgonagall began. 

"Samwise Gamgee, son of Hamfast Gamgee," he said hurriedly. The wand scribbled wildly to keep up. 

"Good," Mcgonagall replied after a pause, clearing her throat. "The hobbits, Merry and Pippin?"

The remaining two hobbits stepped forward, Merry a few inches in front of Pippin. 

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, son of Saradoc Brandybuck," he spoke clearly and confidently as the wand curved through the air. 

Mcgonagall nodded, her eyes shifting now to Pippin, who quailed slightly for an instant, then stood up straighter and cleared his throat.

"Peregrin Took, son of Paladin Took II," he said. 

"Very good, thank you," Mcgonagall said, then looked in indication at Aragorn, and at Boromir beside him.

The men stepped forward. 

"My, what a lot of procession," Gimli mumbled under his breath. 

**********

"…tasks that may cause bodily harm in the happening. But if this is the case, the wounds will be seen to as soon as the round is over, in the name of fair play."

Frodo shook his head in bewilderment at the lines he was reading. Before they had been excused from the office, ushered into a lonely stone wing of the palace, Mcgonagall had produced a replica of the paper they'd signed, out of thin air, suggesting that they might like to read it, so they'd know what would be happening, starting tomorrow. 

"Fair, I suppose, but I hardly approve of the use of the word 'play' here," Gimli snorted. "It sounds as if this is some sort of _holiday_."

"Perhaps they mean it to be one," Legolas spoke up from where he stood by the wall, looking out the slender window at the blue night sky and the two owls that soared easily to and fro about the grounds. 

"Not if their description of this game is any indication," Aragorn responded. He was sitting in a chair in the corner, his hand placed lightly over his eyes. "Even if they call it a game."

"And they don't give us much more information than that," Frodo mumbled, pulling the next portion of the parchment up before his eyes. "They merely throw in these terms--'game', 'round', 'points'…"

"For goodness sake, Aragorn, let us show some dissent," Gimli grumbled, coming to stand beside the man. "This is a waste of time!"

"And what shall we say?" Aragorn looked up at the dwarf. "That we'd like to go home? They brought us here, and they are the only ones who can send us back."

"But--," Gimli faltered, turning in confusion to the wizard, "but, surely, Gandalf--,"

"I'm afraid that I can't," Gandalf said softly. "The magic that the wizard Dumbledore draws power from is a kind that I've never seen before."

"Evil?" Frodo immediately piped up.

"No," Gandalf shook his head. "Completely benign. However, it would take much time for me to sort out how to reverse the spell."

"And by then, they may be done with us," Aragorn finished.

"'Done with us'," Sam shuddered from the tattered armchair he was sitting on the edge of. "I don't like the sound of that."

~~~End of Part 2~~~

Author's Note: Sorry it took me so long to get this part up! I'll get the next part, Round 1, up next Sunday night. Count on it! :o) 


	3. Starting Up

The True Tournament

By Leafy Rose

Rating: PG-13 for violence, bad attitudes, and tense situations. 

Disclaimer: I own nothing Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter. 

****

For all writer's disclaimers and quill scribblings, see the opening bit of the opening chapter. 

Thanks for the wonderful reviews, everyone! 

Cestari: Thanks for the review! Yeah, that's basically what's going to happen. It will be explained a bit clearer in the next chapter. :o) I hope you like this one!

Star-Stallion: ::looks longingly at the chocolate bar:: Mmm…chocolate…goes great with ice cream. Hehe, thanks for the review! I'm glad you're liking this! Hope you like this new chapter. The game will begin next chapter, as we still have a little "procession" to go on with. :o)

Newmoon: Thanks! Here you go! :o) Hope you like this new one!

Elfchick123: Thanks for the review! Have I mentioned that I love your screenname? :o) I hope that you like this chapter!

Mariana Nimeneth: Thanks for the review! Yeah, the tournament will begin in the next chapter, right at the beginning. As for WGTD, I'll probably start posting that again when I'm finished with this story, but I may start writing it again sooner if I get an inspiration. :o) My classes have started up again, leaving me precious little free time and all that, but I'll not forget about it. :o) Thanks again! Hope you like this new chapter! 

On we go! 

----------------------------

Chapter 3

"Starting Up"

Frodo breathed in, relishing the feeling of the soft covers around him. His eyes were shut, the faint light of early morning resting warmly against his lids, and then his eyes as he opened them. The first thing he took in was the soft, glowing sun, a bright patch blocking everything else from view.

For a darling instant, he thought he was back in his bed, in his room at Bag End, but the heavy thought of the Ring, and Sauron, and all of his companions soon crushed this one away.

He sat up slowly, the unfamiliar stone walls coming into focus, and the memory of the strange detour his journey had led him on came back into his mind as well. He slid to the edge of the bed, which seemed about as wide as a dining table, tossing the covers back as his feet came over the side, his toes just brushing the ground. Frodo pushed himself gently off, onto the floor. He walked across the warm wooden floorboards to stand in front of the large window the sun was coming through. It was enclosed with a plate of glass with a lovely slim pattern of a dragon blowing a wisp of blue flame up in curling fashion. Frodo found this rather curious as well, as he had always thought of dragons as nothing but dangerous, and this tiny decoration made them seem benevolent, large but harmless. 

As he stared up at the design at the top of the window, Frodo became aware of a dark object moving back and forth lazily in his lower peripheral view. He looked straight out the window to see a large brown bird with a stubby little beak flying towards the window. Could it be an _owl_? It had been ages since he had seen one. 

Frodo watched for a moment, then stumbled back as its speed increased and its path didn't change. It was flying straight for the window! 

The bird collided noisily with the window, outside at the spot that Frodo had just been staring at. It shook off the force of this, turning slightly and beating its right wing fiercely against the closest pane. The noise was surprisingly effective.

Before Frodo could do anything but stare in alarm and mystification, there was a quick stirring from the bed in the corner, and Sam leaped up, his stance defensive. He rushed up beside Frodo, who looked up at him as he spotted the owl. By the look on his face, Sam didn't look like he knew any better, what to do. 

He settled for snatching a brass candlestick off the table beside Frodo's bed, rapping it sharply against the window, close to the spot where the bird was making his fuss. 

This didn't curtail the bird's behavior at all, but rather tripped the lock in the wall that held the window shut, allowing it now to swing outward like a door. Sam dropped the candlestick in his surprise as the bird pulled back to avoid being hit by the window, then came forward again, landing on the sill and sticking its left foot out, towards them. It turned its head, looking at them expectantly. 

Frodo looked down at its leg, further shocked to see a small roll of parchment like the sheet they'd been given last night, rolled up and strapped to the bird's leg. He reached forward, gingerly taking the parchment, pulling it loose from the bird. The owl blinked at them as Sam continued to look at it, now in fascination, as he had only once before seen an owl, and never this close. It nodded slightly at him, then took off again out the open window.

Frodo barely registered this, as he unfurled the parchment and took in its words.

"What's going on?" Aragorn stepped into the doorway suddenly, as if he had hurried to it to ask them this. He and Boromir had their own room, as did the four hobbits, and then Legolas and Gimli, so Frodo didn't know how anyone else's night had been, though Aragorn didn't look any different than he had last night. Frodo looked up from his reading.

"We're wanted in the Great Hall," he muttered. "Breakfast."

"What?" Aragorn looked confused. "We don't know--,"

"Here," Frodo turned the writing towards Aragorn as he handed him the paper. "Directions."

*********

Harry groaned, a faint beating noise reaching his ears, stirring him out of his dreams. 

He sat up, fumbling for his glasses as he pulled back the curtains around his bed. To his utter shock, there was a light brown owl perched on the outer edge of the bed, holding a letter in its beak. Obviously a new addition to the Owlery, it looked on at him with wide, eager eyes.

Harry pulled the letter gently towards himself. He stuck his finger in the top of the envelope, tearing it open softly. Though he had been purposely woken up, it was obvious that the others were still asleep, and most probably meant to stay that way.

Harry unfolded the parchment that was neatly stashed within, squinting at the large letters printed on it.

"An early start, Harry--come to the Great Hall at once," it read.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. He raised his head and found himself staring at the little brown owl again.

"What can they want, I wonder?" he whispered to it. 

*********

"So much armor about this place, you'd think they expect a war," Boromir mumbled as the nine of them rounded another set of stairs, the landing being adorned with a handsome, intricate suit of armor. He continued to look disapprovingly at it as they kept on down the stairs, and received a shock as it turned its helmeted head sharply towards him, shaking it vaguely in censure. Boromir turned abruptly, white in the face. This place seemed haunted.

He cared not to mention it, though. Aragorn, the only one he'd have cared to share his discovery with, was heading them up, the tiny piece of paper with the instructions for getting to breakfast in his hand. Though Aragorn had proved himself able to find his way unscathed through a waist-deep swamp in the dead of night, surrounded by the keenest-eared orcs and goblins, he seemed to be having trouble with the instructions the seemingly-eccentric old wizard had provided for him. 

"Left--," he muttered softly, leading them down another set of stairs, into a dark hallway that looked like it had never been used. 

**********

"At last, our guests have arrived," Dumbledore smiled a broad smile as the nine made their way through the doors into the long room, where the wizard was seated at one side of the table closest to the door, the familiar witch (Mcgonagall?), sitting rigidly beside him.

"Forgive us our lateness, but the directions proved somewhat confounding," Gandalf replied, smiling genially in return to Dumbledore.

"Oh, yes," Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head. "I'm afraid several of those staircases have probably shifted in the night. They have a habit of doing that, especially just when I need them to stay put, you know."

"Indeed," Gandalf arched his eyebrows, approaching the table and seating himself. Aragorn approached close behind him, seating himself on one side with Boromir next to him. Legolas took his seat next to Gandalf on his other side, and Gimli seated himself on Legolas' other side. 

The hobbits, however, hung back to stare in amazement at the room, at its seeming lack of a ceiling, though they felt neither the warm sun that shone down, nor the cool breeze that came through the open windows level with them. 

"It's enchanted," Dumbledore spoke up, noticing their hesitation. "An ceiling enchanted to look like the sky outside."

"Really," Frodo swallowed, nodding. These people used magic quite a lot, or so it seemed. They must have been very powerful…still, they only seemed to do harmless magic. 

He hurriedly approached the table, sitting down at it beside Aragorn, Sam, Pippin, and Merry following in quick succession. 

Dumbledore smiled as they all situated themselves. He reached under the table, pulling two envelopes out, handing one across the table to Frodo.

"Don't open it yet," he said. "We must wait for the other contestant to arrive."

"The other contestant--?" Frodo spoke up as the sound of soft footfalls reached his ears.

The witch and wizard and the nine companions all looked to the door in unison as a slight figure, taller than a hobbit but shorter than a man that came hesitantly into the threshold.

"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said before the boy came out of the shadows. "Come, have a seat. I apologize for having to wake you so early on a Saturday."

~~~End of Part 3~~~ 


End file.
